


The Bear

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Birth of Arthur under a special star</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bear

She has been labouring for far too long – two days and a night without result, since the waters spilled in a rush on to her feet and they summoned Ana to the longhouse. Now she lies on the bed, bathed in sweat, exhausted and pale. Her long black hair is tangled and her blue eyes dilated in pain. Ana wipes a wet cloth ineffectually across Vala’s forehead, bites her lip, makes a decision. She murmurs to Olwen, who is assisting her, that she is going out into the main room for a minute, slips quietly through the door.

It is not possible for Ana to hurry these days – in a matter of weeks she will be brought to bed herself. But she has few concerns – a girl, if all the signs are accurate, to be named Lenni in honour of her husband's mother. Another healer to follow her. Yet that is the future. All that can be dealt with in this moment is Vala and a resolution to her agony. If something is not done she will die – and perhaps even if something is done the outcome will be the same. However Ana is determined to try – and, in the end, the choice will not be hers..........

At the longhouse table sits Travon, the village chieftain, copper-coloured hair in disarray, eyes red-rimmed with weariness and grief. Behind him, with a hand on his shoulder, stands Llud, his staunchest lieutenant, his right-arm. Soundlessly young Tugram pours Travon a cup of mead and then withdraws with a slight bow.

As Ana approaches, Travon slowly raises his eyes – they are very dark and very beautiful. Ana curses her beating heart – even at a time like this she cannot suppress how the very sight of him quickens every sliver of her being. Llud knows – as she knows about his own feelings for Vala. Well so be it – you cannot control where or how your heart delves. No runes or amulets can be a shield against that most powerful of enchantments.

Llud gazes at Ana enquiringly over Travon's shoulder and she gives a brief shake of her dark head. She sees the stricken expression that flits across his features, almost immediately subdued. Ana halts at the end of the table, directly across from Travon, and makes a polite obeisance. “My lord.”

Travon brushes an unsteady hand across his face. “You have come seeking my opinion as if I were King Solomon.” It is not a question. Ana remains silent, perfectly still, waiting. She cannot bear to look at him. Instead she focuses on Llud – is unsurprised to see his unshed tears glistening in the flickering candlelight.

A heavy sigh escapes Travon. There is a rasping sound as he rubs his half-grown reddish-brown beard with a ferocity that almost rends the skin. “Alright – as something needs to be done......above all preserve Vala.” Ana nods hastily. If he is to break down, he will only want Llud to witness – and now that a conclusion has been reached, she must hurry anyway......

The child has not turned – and in its present position, Ana knows that it will simply struggle to be born, until both it and Vala succumb to oblivion. Therefore she must attempt to turn the baby herself if even Vala is to have the slightest chance of survival. Ana has does this several times – sometimes with tragic results, sometimes less sorrowful. And she cannot afford to think of it as Travon's child any more – the child of the man whom she loves with a savagery that frightens her.

She must simply employ all her healer's skills and trust in the gods. Grimly Ana motions to Olwen what she needs her to do, forces the writhing Vala to drink a pain-deadening draught. Then she rolls up the sleeves of her gown and greases both arms to the elbow.........

“Perhaps Travon it would be easier.....” Llud's voice trails softly away and he makes a gesture toward the outer door. Travon allows himself to be wrapped in his furry cloak and walked out gently into the starry night. Both of us, Llud thinks sadly, as they stride toward his hut – both of us loving Vala and I with no mitigations, no defense, since I have my lovely Cerys and a healthy new-born son of my own. And after tonight, Travon may be left with what? Nothing.......

In Llud's hut, Cerys sits before the fire, feeding the baby Shannyn - the baby with her heart-shaped face and his father's wise eyes. Llud settles Travon on to a bench just outside the wicker door. He goes inside, gives his wife a swift explanation, tickles the baby's warm nose – and emerges with two hot honeyed cups of adder's sting. Travon has his tousled head tilted toward the night sky. His cheeks gleam wetly in the moonlight.

“Look Llud.” Travon indicates up above them. 'It's Arcturus.” Llud follows his pointing finger. It is the brightest star in the Great Bear constellation, twinkling with a pristine fire, fierce and protective – Arcturus, the leader of the other stars.

Llud hears a stifled squall and looks down. Travon's shoulders are heaving. “Oh Llud, I've only had her in my life for less than a year.” And he is wracked by heavy sobs that wring Llud's own heart..............

Wearily Ana makes her way up behind the longhouse to Llud's hut. She can see the two slumped figures sitting despondently against the wall. For the first time tonight, she is overwhelmed by uncertainty – how exactly should she deliver this news? It is the first time Ana has needed to do so for a chieftain...........

Watching her approach, Llud taps Travon quietly on the shoulder. Slowly, apprehensively, they rise – and then realise that Ana is smiling. “A son, my lord, a healthy son – and Vala is tired of course, but I'm certain all will be well.” It does not startle Ana at all that it is Llud's knees that give way – Llud, who needs to be supported, by a jubilant Travon..........

The child is perfect – an exact image of beautiful black-haired Vala. ( Yet years later, when a Jutish princess, still unborn, produces a baby with a cloud of russet hair, Llud will be one of the few who is not amazed. And long before that Llud will have discovered what other precious qualities this newly-born child has inherited from fiery Travon – his lethal sword-arm, his aptitude for diplomacy, his capacity to love and inspire love so fervently that it stills the breath…) Vala is thankfully asleep, watched over by Olwen, so Travon takes the child tenderly from the crook of her arm, carrying him reverently out into the main room.

Llud is talking in hushed tones to Ana, who is fastening the clasp on her cape, ready to go back to her hut and her husband. Travon walks noiselessly over to them, smiling. “Ana, a gift such as this…..and that Vala has survived. You have my undying thanks and gratitude.” And you have my heart, Ana thinks, glowing with warmth. “I am glad that tonight had a…….satisfactory outcome my lord. He promises to be a handsome man one day.”

In Travon’s arms, the baby gives a contented snuffle and settles again, dreaming of what? A future so wild and wide and wonderful that it cannot yet even be imagined…. Ana pulls her hood up and then pauses, one hand on the door. She looks back at Travon and Llud who are inspecting the swaddled bundle with solemn adoration. “My lord, have you chosen a name yet for your son?” Travon nods, his eyes bright and wet again. “Yes, he shall be named for the guardian of the bear in the night sky, for the star that was watching over his birth as he will one day watch over his people - my son shall be called Arthur.”


End file.
